


Sunday Evening Silences

by LazyDandyLion



Category: EastEnders (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Deaf Character, Domestic Boyfriends, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Missing Scene, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24250441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyDandyLion/pseuds/LazyDandyLion
Summary: "Ben knows his dad, he never expects anything different, but a little flicker of interest in the potentially life changing operation he’s having in two days might have been nice."Some of the Ballum and Phil scenes that EastEnders don't have the time to show us.  Set before the episode on 11th May 2020.
Relationships: Callum "Halfway" Highway/Ben Mitchell
Comments: 11
Kudos: 107





	Sunday Evening Silences

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was amused by the scenes in last week's episodes (11th and 12th May) where Ben and Callum had clearly both spent the night in the Mitchell house, and Callum's understanding of Phil has obviously moved on a bit too, but EastEnders are still depriving us of the potential (not least for comedy gold) of seeing Callum and Phil interact in domestic scenes. I intended to write a short bit of comedy fluff where Callum is his cheerful self running into Phil first thing in the morning, but I started writing it, and well, it wandered in a very different direction to the one I intended. Enjoy...?

“Dad?” Ben closes the kitchen door behind him, dumping his bag on the tiled floor.

He’s clearly caught Phil in the act of making a cup of tea, as his father has his back to him, pouring boiling water into a mug on the worktop. Phil glances around and says something, but his face is still angled away from the door and Ben fails to catch it. He can take a stab at the meaning though from the couple of words he does pick up and the direction Phil’s looking in, and he manages a casual smile.

“Just…brought back some stuff I had at Callum’s,” says Ben. “I was going to sleep here the next week or so? Because of the operation, if they confirm it’s going ahead?” Phil nods, looking uninterested, and turns back to his tea. Ben’s stomach drops. He knows his dad, he never expects anything different, but a little flicker of interest in the potentially life changing operation he’s having in two days might have been nice.

Ben’s not exactly moved out. He’s not officially living with Callum; they’ve never actually got round to having that conversation. But they haven’t spent a night apart since Callum’s return from the hospital following his ordeal in the warehouse. Without discussing it, even after days or nights when there’s been arguments and fallings out, there’s an unspoken agreement that where one goes so goes the other. When Phil was out of the country, they had mostly stayed at the Mitchell house; there was more room and Lexi was there too, it made sense. But since Phil had returned, somehow it had been easier to go back to the flat above the funeral parlour instead. Ben has barely spent a night in his own bed since his father’s return at Denny’s funeral. These days, he has more clothes over in the flat than he does in his own wardrobe.

Ben’s home feels different when Phil is in it, it always has. _Ben’s_ different when Phil’s there. Again, there had been no discussion about it. Callum had just seemed to understand without needing to ask that that was the way it needed to be.

But between Stuart and Rainie celebrating their engagement as noisily and enthusiastically as only they could and a hyperactive toddler running around the flat, Callum had suggested this weekend that Ben might want to consider moving back home. _‘I’ll come with you!’ he’d added hastily at the look on Ben’s face. ‘I wasn’t kicking you out or anything.’_ He’d gone on to say something about there maybe being more peace and quiet over at the Mitchell house, what with the operation and Callum starting his new job, and Ben had made a joke about whether he’d forgotten Queen Lexi, Dramatic Diva, lived there too. Callum had laughed at this frankly pathetic quip, eyes crinkling, wide smile beaming in the way that had made Ben fall in love with him in the first place, and another tiny chip was chiselled off the big black burden Ben carries with him. Maybe one day, if Callum kept chipping away, it would get so easy to carry he wouldn’t even feel it.

Ben still struggles with the lip reading, some days more than others. Like when he’s tired, or when he’s simply fed up of having to work so hard when communication used to be so easy, or when the person he’s talking to forgets to face him and speak clearly - and even Callum, as amazing as he is, forgets sometimes. But somehow when it’s just the two of them, and they’re at home - wherever home is - and talking together, it doesn’t matter so much if he misses half of the words, they still seem to understand each other one way or another. Callum doesn’t seem to mind having to repeat himself when necessary, and Ben is slowly becoming less and less frustrated at having to indicate that he needs something repeated. And when he can still make Callum laugh as much as he ever used to, with bad jokes and terrible innuendo, he can, for a moment, believe that nothing has changed.

Standing in his Dad’s kitchen, looking at the back of Phil’s head, it’s a feeling that’s a million miles away right now. “Callum’ll be staying here too,” Ben adds. “If that’s all right.”

Phil turns back towards him, cup of tea in hand, and nods. He may have grunted in acknowledgement too, there’s some kind of facial movement, but it’s impossible for Ben to tell.

He hasn’t been offered a cup of tea, either, he notices, as Phil sits down at the kitchen table. But the act of sitting down and looking open for conversation rather than leaving the room is a sort of invitation in itself, Ben supposes, and he takes one of the other chairs to join his dad.

“Any plans for tonight, then, dad?” Ben asks, trying to sound cheerful. “We thought we might get a takeaway, since it’s Sunday…”

Phil pauses for a moment in thought, then shakes his head. “Nah, you’re all right. Might go to the Vic actually.”

Ben smiles, relieved he caught nearly all the words for once, and relieved if he’s honest that he doesn’t have to deal with an evening of frustrated conversation alternating with awkward silences. There’s also a bit of relief because he’s never yet been in the same room with both his father and Callum for any significant length of time. He knows it has to happen at some point, and Phil’s said over and over again that he’s fine with Callum - the strange chat they’d had when Phil had dragged Callum to the pub the other week was proof of that, Ben had nearly had a heart attack when he’d heard about it - but Ben also knows that Phil has never really seen his son as part of a couple with another man, up close and in his face, so to speak. Saying you’re okay with something is different to actually having to see it in front of you. It’s hard to let go of old fears that have been part of your life for as long as you can remember.

The relief doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting a little bit that Phil would rather go to the Vic and drink orange juice on his tod than stay and chat to the son he’s barely seen in weeks. Or that he still doesn’t seem to have any questions about the operation. Kathy hadn’t had many questions either, but that was because she’d already done some extensive Googling by the time she’d persuaded Ben to sit down and have a conversation with her about it; she knew more about it than _he_ did. Somehow, he suspects that’s not the reason why Phil isn’t asking him questions.

“Fancy some company?” Ben asks anyway, not surprised when the answer is clearly in the negative, even if he doesn’t catch the exact words through Phil’s mumbling. He picks up something at the end about ‘time with Lola and Lexi’, and moves to correct him. “Lola and Lex, did you say? They’re not coming back tonight, Lola texted. They’ve been out for the day with Billy and Will and Janet, going to sleep over there tonight.”

“Oh right,” said Phil. They sit in silence for a moment, before Ben cracks first.

“Anyway.” Ben stands up and picks up his bag from the kitchen floor. “I’d better go and er…” He trails off, pointing with his thumb vaguely in the direction of his bedroom, and Phil nods again.

“Right.”

In the sanctity of his bedroom, Ben throws the bag onto his bed with a sigh, glancing around the room. He left it in a bit of a mess the last time he’d been here; searching for a tie before the funeral, after that week where he’d got into such a state and been such an idiot he’d nearly pushed Callum away for good. The reminder makes him wince. He knows he’s working his way into a bad mood; the kind of mood where, not all that long ago, all he’d want to do would be to go to the nearest bar and crawl into a bottle of whisky until closing time.

Instead, he sits on the end of his bed and gets his phone out of his pocket to compose a text.

_You on your way over, babe? Getting hungry. x_

The reply is almost instant.

_On my way soon. Can’t decide what to wear for first day!! Help?_

Ben grins at the desperation. They’d already had this conversation several times this weekend, with Ben trying (not very hard) to hide his laughter as Callum held up multiple, very similar shirts for inspection and re-read his induction joining instructions over and over as though they might contain a clue he’d missed. Eventually Ben had been chucked out of the bedroom for the increasingly filthy innuendos and the bad copper jokes. Clearly he’s been forgiven.

_If I tell you what to wear, will you pick up some dinner on your way over?_

_Deal. Chinese? How many for?_

Ben swallows down the lump in his throat and thinks, for possibly the hundredth time today, that he does not deserve this man. _Just you and me. Everyone’s out. Chinese sounds good._

After a beat, he adds, _Wear the green shirt tomorrow. No tie. Wool coat._

Following up with, _So, house to ourselves. Fancy seeing how loud we can be? ;)_

There’s a short pause before the reply comes through from Callum. _I’ll be half an hour._

Ben waits, then breaks into a delighted smile as the second text comes through, as he suspected it would. _Warn the neighbours._

He’s taught him well.

* * *

Callum pushes open the back door, carefully balancing the bag of Chinese takeaway food in one arm as his rucksack with his clothes for the week threatens to slip off his other shoulder. The door’s unlocked as he knew it would be - for a family of criminals, if you can call them that, certainly people up to some dodgy stuff - they rarely seem to bother protecting their own home from outsiders. Mind you, maybe that’s the point, Callum thinks, wondering if he’s being naïve; maybe a vague reputation for violence and murder was a better security system than any amount of locks and bolts.

“Anyone in?” he calls out as he enters the kitchen, then immediately feels daft. Ben’s text had said everyone else was out, and Ben’s not going to hear him, is he? He leaves the food on the kitchen table and goes through to find his boyfriend in the living room, oblivious to Callum’s arrival.

Callum can’t help it, he pauses in the doorway for a moment to watch him. Ben’s stretched out on the sofa, watching some old black and white film on the TV with subtitles on. He looks astonishingly young and innocent - however much Callum knows he’s anything but - head resting on his arm as he chews the thumbnail on the other hand in a gesture Callum recognises as anxious.

Callum walks over to the sofa and touches Ben’s ankle gently to alert him to his presence, nudging him to move up and make room. “What are we watching then?”

“Hmm?” Ben’s clearly not made out the words, but he looks delighted to see Callum anyway - for a moment at least before he frowns. “Oi, where’s my food?”

Callum laughs. “Kitchen! Come and help me get plates?”

“Plates?” Ben checks he heard right, and Callum nods. They make their way into the kitchen and busy themselves with sorting out dinner for a while, Callum dying to ask what’s clearly set Ben on edge but knowing that a direct confrontation will probably get him nowhere. He’s had to take a crash course in Ben Mitchell over the last few months. Ben will tell him what’s bothering him in his own good time, if Callum plays it right.

They head back into the living room, laden down with plates and takeaway containers.

“Stick something else on,” says Ben, handing over the remote control.

“You don’t want to finish the film?”

Ben grinned, settling back on the sofa with an overloaded plate of food. “I’ve seen it. Many, many times. And you hated it last time I tried to get you to watch it on a Sunday afternoon.”

“I did?” said Callum in surprise, glancing back at the TV. The film was still ringing no bells, but they all looked much the same to him; another one of those old Hollywood movies where a guy and girl were falling in love by arguing with each other but politely, in clipped, posh accents. Discovering Ben’s taste in films had been a surprise back when they first started dating, but a delightful one, another twist in the endless tale that was this complicated man. Ben had tried to pass a lot of it off as ironic at first, or would persuade Callum to watch ridiculously camp films with him as part of his ‘gay education’. It wasn’t until much later, piecing together odd comments here and there, that Callum had realised how much of Ben’s love of film was genuine, particularly old musicals and classic Hollywood glamour, and had clearly been encouraged by Kathy as a child in South Africa, and ruthlessly quashed by Phil, growing up in the Mitchell household. It wasn’t a love Callum shared - he’d happily sit through an action or superhero film, or maybe a comedy, but musicals bored him rigid - but he’d sit and watch anything Ben wanted him to if it meant Ben opening up to him, showing him that side he kept hidden from everyone else.

“Well, hate might be a bit strong,” says Ben. “You fell asleep ten minutes in and missed the whole thing though, that was a bit of a clue.” He winks at Callum, looking a hundred times more relaxed already, and Callum smiles back.

He changes the channel and they eat in companionable silence for a minute.

“You sure about the green shirt?” Callum blurts out after a moment or two. He’s not sure where the question comes from, but the start of his induction tomorrow is still weighing on his mind, and it’s a good a conversation starter as any.

Ben looks at him in confusion, and Callum groans to himself, embarrassed and not wanting to repeat the question. But he’s learned how frustrating it is for Ben when he fails to catch something and the speaker says ‘never mind’ instead of repeating it, so he asks again.

“The green shirt.” Callum pulls at the shirt he’s currently wearing. “Are you sure about it?”

Ben laughs. “Babe, I hate to tell ya this, cos I know you’re stressing about it, but you know once you turn up looking all tall and gorgeous and serious, no one’s going to be worrying about the colour of your shirt, right? You could turn up wearing a bin bag and everyone’s going to be so captivated by your beautiful blue eyes that they wouldn’t even notice.”

Callum rolls his eyes. “Can you be serious for a moment?”

“I am being serious!” Ben clearly sees Callum’s expression and relents. “I mean it. Honestly. The green shirt is perfect, trust me, but they’re gonna love you whatever ya wear. You’re gonna smash it tomorrow.”

Callum nods, concentrating for a moment on loading noodles on to his fork.

Ben watches him carefully before nudging him with his knee. “Okay, you’ve been so excited all week over starting at the cop shop I thought your head was gonna explode, and now you’re being weird. What’s up?”

Callum honestly wasn’t sure how to answer that. He’d been on cloud nine ever since his acceptance came through, but it was like the reality of actually starting his induction tomorrow had finally hit him. A million and one things were buzzing around his head; not least how he and Ben were going to navigate their lives now if Ben or his family were going to continue to get up to things he was going to have to officially not know about now that his police career was a real thing and no longer a dream to be put off to a distant day in the future. They’d never really discussed it properly since getting back together in January. Both had just accepted that it lurked there between them, an elephant in the room.

He didn’t want to bring up that topic right now though. Or possibly ever, as cowardly as that might be. It wouldn’t be fair to Ben to bring it up right now either, as he’d clearly already been stressing about something when Callum had come in earlier, and he was facing an operation in two days.

Instead, Callum picked one of the other problems swirling round his head that he knew Ben would feel better for helping him with, rather than worse.

“It’s hard to explain, ya know?” he said, putting down his plate and turning to face Ben full on, making sure he’s speaking as clearly as he can. “It’s the first time meeting lots of people since…” He trails off before trying again. “I spent my whole life hiding, and pretending, and being terrified of being noticed, of someone spotting that I was different. I don’t want to do that any more. But…I’m going to be meeting all these new people tomorrow, and it’s this big organisation, it’s going to be a bit like the army, and I don’t know how to…” He waves a hand helplessly, not sure how to put it into words.

Ben has been following this with some obvious confusion, eyes focused on Callum’s lips as he tries to comprehend. Then his face clears, and a large grin appears instead. “Ah, you don’t know how to casually drop into conversation that you’re a flaming homosexual?”

Callum attempts to glare at him, but it turns to a laugh very quickly. “Yeah, something like that. I know it sounds stupid,” he adds, looking down and fiddling with the sofa cushion under his knee.

“Didn’t quite catch that last bit,” says Ben, putting his head on one side and smiling softly. “But you don’t need to worry so much, babe. You don’t have to shake the hand of all Her Majesty’s Constabulary and go ‘Hi, Callum Highway, massive poof and certified queer’ - though please, _please_ do, and get someone to video it, honestly I’ll _pay_ you to do that--”

“No,” says Callum, laughing and his heart aching with love.

“--no? Fine, then. You just find an opening to mention it, like if someone asks ya if you’ve got a girlfriend, or what your plans are for the weekend, or what your friends and family think of your (frankly bizarre) career choice; they’re all great opportunities to mention your super supportive, devoted, loyal, not to mention _extremely_ good looking boyfriend.”

“And humble.”

“What was that? ‘Humble’? None more humble, sunshine! But you might want to just stick ta mentioning ‘Ben’, leave out the ‘Mitchell’ bit around all those new copper mates of yours.” Ben makes a face. “Start off on the right foot and all that.”

Callum shakes his head at him, but continues to smile fondly.

“You gonna finish that?” Ben indicates Callum’s abandoned plate, and Callum shrugs.

“All yours.”

Ben tucks into Callum’s leftover spring rolls with relish, while Callum watches him for a moment. “Ben.” He reaches out an arm to get Ben’s attention back. “Ben. What about you?”

“Hmm?” Ben frowns.

“What about you? You seemed a bit out of sorts earlier, everything all right?”

“Not following you.”

“Everything all right?” Callum repeats. “You worried about the operation?”

“Nah, course not.” Ben flashes a smile, the one that Callum dreads. “It’s routine, in and out same day. You’ve read all the stuff they sent.”

“Yeah, but even so--”

“I’m going to get another beer, you want one?” Ben gets up from the sofa without waiting for a reply and vanishes into the kitchen.

Callum doesn’t press the issue when he returns, accepting the beer he never had a chance to ask for gracefully. Ben relaxes again after that, and they settle back down again for the rest of the evening, getting back to the boxset they were bingeing once they eventually remember the password for the right Netflix account.

They curl up together on the sofa in the old familiar pattern, regardless of whichever house the sofa might be in; Ben pressed into Callum’s side like a cat seeking warmth, one hand draped over his thigh, Callum’s hand absent-mindedly stroking his hair. Things have changed though. They can’t talk to each other while sat like this, so they tend to watch TV in near silence these days, interspersed only by the odd comment from Ben which Callum never bothers to reply to. This is absolutely fine with Callum though. He wouldn’t sacrifice a second of their time spent like this, feeling the warmth and weight of Ben totally relaxed and carefree for once, tucked into his chest, for hours spent sat apart like strangers.

They’re still sat like this a few hours later, when Callum hears the kitchen door open and close. He glances down at Ben, curled up in his arms and clearly completely oblivious to the sound of someone entering the house and walking through the kitchen.

Ben laughs at something on the TV and snuggles closer, idly stroking his thumb over the inside seam of Callum’s jeans.

Callum flicks his eyes over to the doorway, being careful not to move, and swallows at the sight of Phil standing there, frozen, looking unsure of what to do. Callum tries to smile and indicate with a gentle head tilt that Phil should enter the room. However, the movement alerts Ben to the fact that something has changed, and Ben also looks towards the doorway.

The effect is instant. The bubble they’ve created around themselves shatters as Ben scrambles upright, almost pushing himself away from Callum. Callum’s hand, which had been caressing the hairs on Ben’s head, is left clutching empty air as Ben propels himself with force to the other end of the sofa. His leg feels suddenly cold where Ben’s hand had been resting a moment before.

“All right, Dad?” Ben says, a little breathlessly.

Phil nods but doesn’t answer, continuing to stand in the doorway looking at them both.

“There’s plenty of food left, if you fancy some?” says Callum, indicating the coffee table full of half-empty takeaway containers.

“Nah, you’re all right,” says Phil. “I ate earlier.” He pauses awkwardly, still not making any attempt to sit down, before indicating a thumb over his left shoulder in the direction of the kitchen. “I’m just gonna--” He vanishes to follow the way his thumb was pointing.

Ben shrugs at Callum, forestalling him before he can say anything about what just happened. “We should probably clear up, it’s getting late.”

“Ben--”

“Come on.” Ben gets to his feet and starts piling plates together, picking up empty beer bottles. “Give me a hand.”

Giving up on anything further just now, Callum gets up and helps him clear the table, taking everything through into the kitchen. Phil looks up in surprise when they enter. He’s sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper, but he’s not reading it, staring vacantly at nothing when they walk in.

“We’re just clearing up,” says Ben in explanation, and Phil nods.

“I’ll give you some space,” he says, getting up from the table.

“You don’t have to--” Callum begins to say, but Phil has already left the room. Ben didn’t even bother trying, having already bent down to load leftovers into the fridge. Callum crosses over and places a gentle hand on his shoulder to get his attention.

“I’ll do that. And the washing up,” says Callum, smiling softly. “Why don’t you go and sit with your dad?” He hopes he imagined the slight look of panic that crosses Ben’s eyes at the suggestion; but after a beat, Ben nods and leaves the kitchen, leaving Callum alone.

He finishes tidying up and gets on with the washing up for a while; then gets the fright of his life when, placing the last of the plates on the draining rack, he glances to the side to find Phil has re-entered the kitchen. 

“You startled me!” says Callum with a slight laugh. “Thought you were through with Ben?”

“Just making a cup of tea,” says Phil, picking up the kettle and waving it to make his point. “You want one?”

“No, thanks. Not much of a tea drinker, me,” Callum adds, feeling like he should make a bit of an effort. “Nor coffee, either. I like hot chocolate, though.”

Phil gives him an odd look as he comes across the kitchen to fill the kettle. “Right.”

Having finished the washing up, Callum wipes his hands on a tea towel and pauses awkwardly, wondering if he should be trying to make conversation with Phil, but not sure why he should bother when the older man definitely doesn’t seem to be in a chatty mood. He leaves the kitchen with an awkward ‘see you later then’ hand gesture - which is pointless anyway as Phil isn’t looking - and returns to the living room to find Ben.

Ben has retreated into the far corner of the sofa, clutching a cushion over his stomach, one hand held up to his mouth, chewing on his thumbnail again as he was when Callum first arrived earlier that evening. It feels like a hand is squeezing Callum’s heart as he watches and finally understands.

“All right?” is all Callum says as he plops back down on the sofa again. He sits at the other end, a clear foot or more of space between them, which feels so unnatural it hurts. Every part of him wants to go over to Ben, wrap all his limbs around him and kiss every inch of exposed skin until that furrow in his forehead clears and that frown turns into a laugh, but he settles for reaching out a hand and briefly squeezing Ben’s knee.

Ben blinks at him. Callum’s not sure if he heard the question, but he responds to the touch, smiling with his mouth, if not with his eyes, and reaching across the sofa, taking Callum’s hand with his own and linking their fingers together.

“Thanks.”

There’s a sound from the kitchen, which Callum hears and Ben doesn’t, and Callum quickly squeezes Ben’s hand before pulling his own away with some reluctance. Ben brings his hand back to rest in his lap as Phil re-enters the living room with his cup of tea, sitting in the armchair with a grunt of expelled air.

“Put the news on, would you, Ben?” says Phil, and Callum can’t quite believe his ears. Phil’s mostly facing away from them, towards the TV, and there’s no way in hell Ben could have caught that.

Ben turns to him, a questioning frown on his face, and Callum picks up the remote control from the coffee table to put the ten o’clock news on, giving Ben a quick reassuring smile as he does so.

They watch the headlines in silence for a moment or two before Phil speaks up again, still facing sideways on towards the TV.

“How’s the Old Bill application going, then, Callum? You heard anything yet?”

“Um, yeah, I have actually,” says Callum in slight panic, glancing towards Ben, worried that he’s being excluded. But Ben seems to have worked out that Phil’s speaking to Callum and not him; after a moment of confused attention, he retreats into himself, eyes back on the TV and shoulder blades digging into the sofa cushions. “I, uh, passed the assessment! I start my induction tomorrow, actually, thought Ben or Lola might have mentioned it…”

“Right,” says Phil with another grunt. “Well, I’ve not seen a lot of either of them recently. House has been pretty quiet to tell you the truth.”

Callum nods, not sure of what to say. It’s not a new feeling he has around Phil; the borderline terror he once felt around him has slowly dissipated, but it was being replaced by a general sense of confusion. Somehow, all the different stories he knew about him didn’t quite add up. Looking at him now, it’s hard not to simply see a lonely old man, grieving for the son he’d recently lost. But then you look at Ben, at the effect one evening with his dad - or with his dad clearly avoiding him - has had on him, and the anger swells in Callum’s chest.

“Well, good luck for tomorrow then,” says Phil, adding with a chuckle, “Probably best not to mention my name around there if you want to make it through probation.”

“Yeah,” says Callum, laughing too as though this is a funny joke and not potentially a genuine problem that might one day have to be dealt with one way or the other. He glances across at Ben again, feeling guilty that he’s completely out of this conversation, but Ben is continuing to watch the TV, not looking at either of them.

There’s another pause. “Might finish this in bed,” says Phil eventually, hauling himself out of the chair. He raises the mug to indicate what he means. “Early start tomorrow.” He looks between the two of them sat on the sofa, looking as if he wants to say something else, but the words don’t come. “Good night, then.”

Callum smiles. “Good night.” He reaches across and taps Ben on the leg to get him to look up.

“Night, Dad,” says Ben without enthusiasm, and Phil leaves them to it.

There’s a pause while they look at each other for a moment. _Is he gone?_ mouths Ben after a minute or two has passed, and Callum nods; he can hear Phil’s footsteps above them.

Ben sighs, his shoulders slumping as the tension leaves him. Then he all but launches himself across the sofa again, curling back into Callum’s side, arms squeezed around him. Callum smiles sadly, bringing his own arms to wrap around Ben’s back, one hand reaching up to stroke the nape of his neck.

“Hey.” Callum uses a finger to nudge underneath Ben’s chin, bringing his face up so he can see Callum talking to him. “Want to go to bed?”

Ben’s head drops back down, and he presses it into Callum’s chest. “Let’s just…stay here ten more minutes.”

“Okay.”

Callum presses his lips in affection to the top of Ben’s head and blinks back the tears that are threatening to fall, while the night stretches out around them.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a film in mind for the movie Ben's watching on the TV, but I'll leave it up to your own imaginations.


End file.
